


The Burn

by pringlesaremydivision



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-07-06
Updated: 2003-07-06
Packaged: 2018-04-04 01:05:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4120701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pringlesaremydivision/pseuds/pringlesaremydivision
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You went to the beach without me?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Burn

Dominic stumbles into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes, wondering vaguely what time it is, and -  
  
"Jesus, Bill, what did you do?"  
  
Billy, clad only in a pair of swim trunks, turns around, smiling sheepishly. "Fell asleep at the beach."  
  
"You went to the beach without me?" Sleepy eyes flash with indignance.  
  
"You looked peaceful. I didn't want to wake you."  
  
"Oh." Dominic pauses. "Bill?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Peter's going to kill you, you know."  
  
Billy sighs. "I know. Maybe it won't show up."  
  
"Maybe."  
  
A moment later:  
  
"Billy?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Doesn't that hurt?"  
  
"No, Dommie, being sunburnt feels wonderful."  
  
"I only meant..." He shakes his head. "Want me to put some aloe on it?"  
  
"That'd be great."  
  
Dominic clatters through the various drawers and cupboards in the bathroom before emerging triumphantly with the lotion, finding Billy stretched out lazily on the couch, head pillowed on his arms, eyes shut.  
  
He debates briefly with himself, decides it's only logical - logic, he tells himself firmly, not at all because he  _wants_  to - and settles himself on the curve of Billy's ass. And oh. That's nice. Good fit.  
  
Maybe this isn't such a good idea.  
  
"Dom!" Billy exclaims, twisting his head to look over his shoulder.  
  
"Sorry. But it's the only place you're not all red." He grins. "Unless..."  
  
"No. You're the fan of indecent exposure, not me."  
  
"Hey! That's Orli!"  
  
"Dominic?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Shut the fuck up."  
  
"Right." A pause. "Fuck you."  
  
"Okay," Billy murmurs sleeply. "S'long as you give me a nice massage."  
  
Dominic blinks, opens his mouth to respond, then snaps it shut again, his teeth clicking together loudly.  
  
Unscrewing the cap of the lotion, he pours some onto Billy's bright red back, not bothering to warm it in his hands first, causing Billy to arch up and -  
  
"Did you just say 'squee'?"  
  
Billy twists his head around again to glare at Dominic. "No."  
  
"I think you did," he says, slowly moving his hands over Billy's shoulderblades.  
  
"I did n...ahh, that feels nice," Billy says, settling down again.  
  
Dominic's hands, softly soothing, continue to roam, every so often causing Billy to let out a soft moan, which Dominic tries (unsuccessfully) not to focus on because he doesn't think Billy would buy "that's, ah, the lotion bottle pressing into your back, mate."  
  
And it isn't because it's Billy beneath him, warm and drowsy and utterly at his mercy if Dom were to decide to take advantage of him - not that he would, of course, because it's  _Billy_  - and letting out breathy sighs that porn directors would be proud of.  
  
Definitely not. It's just. Frustration?  
  
Yeah. Frustration. Not getting laid for weeks can do that to you.  
  
Not Billy at all.  
  
Dominic wonders how long he'll have to repeat that to himself before he'll believe it.  
  
He gets to twenty-four times before Billy's voice interrupts him.  
  
"Dom?" And how does Billy manage to make his name sound like fine chocolate? He says it in his head, and - 'Dom'. Harsh and short and gutteral and not even remotely like chocolate; not erotic in the least.  
  
Not that Billy saying his name is erotic in the first place.  
  
"Fuck," he mutters, and only after it passes his lips does he realize he'd said it out loud. Which garners another "fuck", louder and angrier this time, and - shit.  
  
"What?" he answers, wondering briefly just how much time has passed since Billy had addressed him.  
  
"What?"  
  
"You said my name."  
  
"Oh. Yeah." Several eternities later: "That was five minutes ago."  
  
"Yeah. Sorry. What'd you want?"  
  
"Forgot."  
  
"Billy?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"You're a cunt."  
  
"Hmm," he murmurs, and -  
  
'Oh, that's not fair,' Dominic thinks. Billy's fucking  _squirming_  beneath him and if he didn't have a raging hard-on before, he certainly does now, and how on earth is Billy  _not_  aware of it?  
  
"Hmm," he says again, then: "rub harder, would you?"  
  
Dom shakes his head to clear it, 'Billy it's Billy it's  _Billy_ ' running through his mind, but somehow that doesn't help, at some point that had stopped being a deterrant, and Dominic has sneaking suspicion that it had been a long time ago, and - oh. Right. Rub harder.  
  
"Dommie?" And god _damnit_ , would Billy just  _stop saying his name_?  
  
"What?" Slightly more irritably than he would've liked.  
  
"Get up for a minute, would you? My arse is falling asleep."  
  
"Sure." And hey, so long as Billy doesn't turn around, he'll be okay. Because. Well. Boxers. Loose-fitting boxers. Loose-fitting boxers very noticably tented.  
  
But Billy is scooting down the length of the couch, apparently intent on clearing a rather Dom-sized space at the end of it, and that can't be good.  
  
"Dominic?"  
  
Fuck fuck fuck  _fuck_  - "Yes?"  
  
"Have a seat."  
  
But it's okay. He could just grab a pillow and put it in his lap and Billy would be none the wiser.  
  
He reaches out for one, fingertips coming within inches of salvation, but - "Don't bother."  
  
Billy's voice has, at some point, lost its sleepy quality.  
  
Playing dumb seems like the best way to deal with this. That, or running full-tilt out the door, and his feet don't seem to want to move.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Sit down." Silky-smooth voice that Dominic can actually  _feel_  rolling over him, and who is he to even bother trying to resist?  
  
He sits, folding his hands ineffectually in his lap, determinedly looking everywhere but Billy; but Billy is speaking again and focusing is becoming rather difficult so Dom thinks it best to watch Billy's mouth; make sure he isn't missing anything.  
  
"You're hard." And oh, heard that loud and clear, no extra focusing required, and what happened to sheepish Billy, to light-hearted, squeeing Billy? This Billy is an entirely new creature, mysterious and - well. Sexy as all hell, really.  
  
He racks his brain for a suitable explanation, comes up short, and offers: "Um?"  
  
Billy's mouth curves into a smile.  
  
"How long?"  
  
And now  _playing_  dumb isn't necessary. "How long what?"  
  
"How long have you wanted me, Dommie?"  
  
Dominic wrenches his gaze from Billy's lips and forces it onto his eyes, but a response doesn't seem to be required.  
  
"You see, because," Billy's eyes begin to glitter, "I've wanted you," and Dominic isn't sure but he thinks the space between Billy's head and his lap is growing steadily smaller, "for months."  
  
Dom is dimly aware of a hand on the waistband of his boxers, tugging it down, and the fact that Billy seems to gain momentum the lower it gets.  
  
"Months, Dominic," and there it is, fucking chocolate again, " _months_  I've spent watching you. And wanting you. And I saw you watching back. But I wanted to be sure..." And the silk in his voice slips a little, the tiniest hint of uncertainty coming through.  
  
'Fuck,' Dom thinks briefly, 'I thought I was being covert,' but then he realizes that that is so very far from the point that it might not even be in the same country.  
  
Billy's stopped talking as though he expects a response, and Dominic thinks it's only fair to give it to him.  
  
"Yes." Concise; but then, in Dom's opinion, verbosity has always been overrated.  
  
And clearly it's the right response, because his boxers are on the floor and Billy's lips are on his cock and  _ohfuckingjesus_.  
  
And then, just as suddenly, they're gone, and Dominic finds Billy looking up at him expectantly.  
  
"I don't want this," and the silk is completely gone, "to be casual."  
  
Dominic shakes his head. "No." Then: "No. Definitely not."  
  
Billy's face breaks into a grin that almost hurts, it's so raw and open, and Dom knows that it's mirrored on his own face.  
  
And Billy's lips are back, pressing small kisses up and down his length, tongue darting out every so often and Dominic feels as though every one of his nerve ending is on fire and he's sure, he's  _absolutely positive_ , that all Billy is really interested in is killing him, slowly and painfully.  
  
Then Billy's mouth envelops him, sweet and hot, and at least now he'll die quickly, and -  _oh_.  
  
He attempts to warn Billy, finds the ability to speak has passed him by, and arches up, shuddering and gasping, hands scrabbling for purchase on the couch; but Billy doesn't flinch, doesn't show any sign of discomfort, just swallows and swirls his tongue once more around the head of Dom's cock before withdrawing his mouth.  
  
"Oh," he says after a few moments; words longer than a syllable are completely out of the question right now.  
  
Billy props himself up on his elbows. "Yeah," he answers agreeably.  
  
"Hmm." A frown crosses Dominic's face. "Move over."  
  
Billy complies, turning on his side.  
  
Dominic settles next to Billy and waits the longest five seconds in his life before kissing him.  
  
It's a sloppy kiss, wet and warm and open, tongues colliding and teeth clicking together, but it sends shivers down Dom's spine and he presses himself hard against Billy, who winces almost audibly.  
  
And Dominic realizes - Billy's back, sunburn, couch, contact. Bad idea.  
  
"Fuck, Billy, I'm sorry," as he hastily moves back to allow him more room.  
  
Billy smiles and brings a hand up to still him. "It's okay, Dom."  
  
And it's chocolate all over again and Dominic thinks he can almost taste it on Billy's tongue.


End file.
